More Fair Than Snow
by Jalen Strix
Summary: Occasional heroine Sarah Williams finds the Goblin King in need of her services. A short urban fantasy adventure with dashes of humor and romance, wrapped around a Snow White narrative frame inspired by Ellen Weaver's glorious "The Fairest One of All".
1. Prologue: New Client

**Prologue: New Client**

* * *

So you might wonder what someone does with advanced degrees in both mythology and criminology. It's a reasonable question, which my parents never tired of asking me during my time at Cambridge and UMaryland. My answer, since I have a serious hero complex, was to (a) take freelance writing and forensic consulting work to keep a roof over my head, and (b) hang out my virtual shingle to keep my soul from starving.

Which shingle might that be? The occasional heroine one, of course. True, it's a less common profession these days, but if you advertise in the right places, clients come a-knockin'.

It turns out the supernatural world tends to need official heroes more often than the everyday world does. It's just the way things are. Mythology didn't steer me wrong on that.

So I'm never all that surprised when the supernatural gives me a ping, asking for help at odd hours of the day and night. These days it's most likely to be a text message relayed from one of the various forums I'm connected to. Standard procedure: Have whoever it is meet me in a well-lit public venue and find out what's up. I'm fond of this little twenty-four hour hipster coffee place - they make a damned fine latte.

I've done this a fair amount. The hipster baristas know me by name anyway, and they don't bat a mascaraed eyelash at the string of odd folk I meet there.

So I suppose it's somewhat ironic that I was the one blinking rapidly in jaw-clenching shock at my latest prospective client. Those crystalline eyes and patrician features, that cornsilk hair - I'd know him anywhere. And never mind the fey grace that dripped like spiced honey from his lean frame. That was just an aesthetic bonus.

Jareth, the Goblin King, had come waltzing into my coffee joint, his John Fluevog boots clacking authoritatively against the floor with every step. He clearly hadn't lost his distinctive fashion sense and was being covertly appreciated by every hipster in the place. I sensed a run on Fluevogs in the immediate future.

Meanwhile, I struggled valiantly to recall my powers of speech. In my defense, I've been doing this for seven years, and it's never been Jareth before. It's also never been wrapped in a such a major come-hither aura.


	2. Part One: Once Upon a Time

**Part One: Once Upon a Time**

* * *

Jareth sat down across from me, leaning forward just enough for the intoxicating scent of him to invade my nostrils. "I need your help."

I found my words, barely. "And I need _you_ to tone the glamour down or we're going to be mobbed by every person in this place in about five minutes flat."

He flashed a smile bright as a new penny. The aura was still up and reeling.

With an effort of will that wasn't pretty, I rolled my eyes. "What, you think I won't help you unless you seduce me? Really?"

His smile relaxed and the glamour dropped like a curtain. He was still gorgeous beyond words, but it wasn't such a physical pull. "It's been awhile and we didn't part on the best of terms."

I breathed easier and took a slow sip of my dwindling latte. "Fortunately for you, I'm chock full of heroic sympathy these days. So, what kind of trouble are you in?"

"This may take some time to tell. Might I refresh your drink?"

"That bad, huh?"

His expression tightened with the faintest hint of chagrin.

I took pity on him. "Medium latte, whole milk. And thanks."

He nodded and went to the counter. I tried not to notice how fantastically his tailored pants fit him. But I didn't try _that_ hard. One of the perks of working with the fae is that many of them have been sculpted by human desire into their current forms. And anyway, a girl has to take her small pleasures where she can. I enjoyed the view of him walking back over with our drinks, too.

I sipped my new latte. Mmmm...glorious. "So, now that I'm properly plied with fresh caffeine, what's the story?"

He hunched over his drink, wrapping his fingers meditatively around it. "How familiar are you with the tale of Snow White?"

"Brothers Grimm, Disney, Anne Sexton, Faerie Tale Theatre, Cannon Movie Tales, other modern takes, or general gestalt?"

He blinked at me.

I smiled. "I wrote one of my master's theses on Snow White. So?"

He considered briefly. "The Grimm brothers' version is good enough to start with. They had the opening parts right, more or less, and the popularity of the general gestalt in human consciousness leaves certain avenues more accessible than others to us in terms of action."

"Us?"

"I'm hoping." He smiled.

My heart skipped a beat. Damn, but he was beautiful with those eyes and that gorgeous devil's mouth. I'd somehow forgotten. "I'm familiar enough with the Grimms' Snow White."

"And how does it begin?"

"Wording or basic plot elements?"

"Basic plot elements."

"Mmm, let's see...a queen wanting a daughter pricks her finger sewing and a few drops of blood fall out of her ebony-framed window onto the snow outside. This rather pleasing color ensemble inspires her to wish specifically for a daughter as white as snow, as black as ebony, and as red as blood."

He took a measured sip from his drink. "Well, my mother wasn't much for sewing in the traditional sense and she's not exactly a queen, but that's the gist of how things began that led to my existence."

I coughed. "Wait, you're not telling me y _ou're_ Snow White, are you?"

He shrugged. "I can't help it if the Grimm brothers preferred a female protagonist. My mother certainly requested a daughter, so that part's right."

"And the black and red? I get the white, what with your skin tone."

"I believe I look rather fetching in red and black, if you recall."

"Seriously?"

"Blood magic doesn't always behave itself. And I'll have you know my hair was black when I was small."

I looked pointedly at the golden locks arranged with artful abandon. "I find that hard to believe."

"Very small. I was born a raven-haired thing, and three days later it all fell out to be replaced with my current fairness. I believe that's when my mother began to really suspect things weren't going as planned."

"The gender switch didn't tip her off?"

"It was a very old blood rite, and prone to be unruly. That kind of magic always thinks it knows better than you. At any rate, my mother expected some surprises. But she'd traded away all her potential progeny to get the one child she desired, the powerful one who would carry on her legacy," he snorted softly, "and she wasn't about to let little things like gender and hair coloring ruin it."

"A determined woman, your mother."

"Quite. Fallen angels don't dally with just any old female, fae or otherwise."

My eyebrows jumped. "Fallen angels?"

"It was a calculated thing on both sides. But my mother can be quite persuasive and my father had his own reasons for wanting a fae alliance." He saw me giving him a look. "What?"

"Nothing." I shook my head. "But the fallen angel lineage explains a lot. I'm betting Lucifer's not your father, though. He's got his own connections to Faerie already through the Winter queen's mantle. So who is it? Mephistopheles? Asmodeus?"

"Belial, actually."

I whistled softly. "Fallen seraph, first sphere, with a big ol' chip on his angelic shoulder. Your mother sure knows how to pick 'em."

His smile was equal parts bitter and wry. "My mother is a woman of certain tastes."

"Clearly. I mean, if you're going to nab a ridiculously volatile fallen angel to sire your child, might as well make it the one who's heart-rakingly beautiful."

"Beauty is its own weapon."

"Which you've been blithely wielding since you walked in here, of course."

He feigned an accent that would have done a debutante proud. "Why, Ms. Williams, are you telling me I'm pretty?"

"Yup. Especially when you're not oozing glamour. But you knew that. Now," I made a rolling motion with my hand, "please do continue."

"Mmm." He looked distinctly cheerier at my overt appreciation. "At any rate, as anyone will tell you, sons are rather different from daughters. My mother adapted as best she could, altering herself to be the embodiment of everything a young lad might want. The ultimate haven, she was, the goddess of my youth."

"And then you grew out of it?"

He nodded. "There's always a time for growth, a time for rebellion. My mother saw it coming, of course, but for reasons past understanding, she held onto me all the more instead of letting me go. I probably would have wandered and found my way back to her after I'd stretched my wings for a decade or two. Perhaps she _did_ love me then and couldn't bear to see me go. I like to think so sometimes."

"But the smothering approach went rather poorly."

"Of course. I _am_ my mother's son, after all. Our battles became rather epic in scale. And that's when she first saw the raw power I was beginning to have access to."

"Ah. And since you're Snow White, I'm betting your raw power potential was greater than hers, which terrified the hell out of her."

"Right in one."

I nodded. "She was supposed to get a faithful second-in-command, not a rival. Not someone who could go head to head with her and win. How old were you when she realized?"

"A feisty lad of fourteen."

"Interesting. So Disney got the age right, while the Brothers Grimm halved it."

He shrugged. "As I said, they had their own ideas about proper protagonists. Storytellers do take liberties. It's one of their more endearing qualities."

"I'm sure. So anyway, here you are, a feisty lad of fourteen with power potential that's causing your mother to suddenly quake in her boots, and what happens? I can't imagine you'd blithely follow a huntsman into the woods."

His soft laughter rolled out between us. "Not as such. There were woods of a sort, though."

"Oh?"

"You remember that little 'I've brought you a gift' line? My mother used it on me first to set me wandering in the twining forest of the Labyrinth's magic."

I snorted. "What'd she offer you to get you to run it?"

"Ah, no, you misunderstand. She offered me the Labyrinth itself as a place to run free from her. It wasn't getting any use after that whole fiasco with Theseus and the Minotaur."

I stared at him. "Uh huh. You know it was a trap for the Minotaur, right? To keep it from getting out?"

His lips twitched ruefully. "I admit, I may have been thinking less than clearly. Rebellious fourteen-year-old and all."

"Mmmm. Well, heaven knows _I_ made some dumb decisions around that age." I flipped him a wry half-smile. "But it turned out alright. So did your mother send a huntsman after you?"

He nodded. "She sent hunters, weaving her magic this way and that to guide them along the paths to me. Human emissaries meant to take my heart, steal my breath, and consume me utterly."

I blinked hard, wheels a-turning. "The runners. Like me."

"Like you."

I swallowed, squashing down a disconcerting amount of disappointment. So much for being a special and unique Labyrinth snowflake. "How many have there been?"

"I can't begin to tell you. I lost count in the early twentieth century." He took another pull of his latte. "The Labyrinth grew rather fond of me however, and began to shield me as best it could, ensconcing me in the castle as the king to tend the goblins."

Hmm..."So the goblins are the dwarves of the tale?"

His lips quirked up with amusement. "You'll notice none of the goblins are terribly tall - well, not the ones who have been in the Labyrinth for any length of time."

"So Ludo was a new arrival?"

"Quite. I've been among the goblins for a very long time now, fitting just so."

"Somehow I don't see you as the domestic sort. What do you do for them? Canonical Snow White is typically into mending, washing, sewing, weaving, cooking, that sort of thing."

His lips quirked up again. "I keep everything neat and orderly. I mend interdimensional rifts. I wash away sullied memories. I sew patchwork dreams together and weave stories. I cook up plots and schemes to keep everyone occupied and out of trouble."

"Heh, metaphorical domesticity. Nicely done."

"The Labyrinth was quite pleased with the arrangement, anyway. My mother had never paid that much attention to its maintenance. It was simply an oubliette for me where she could send her hunters." His eyes caught mine. "And so you were sent, my young huntress, to take the heart of me. And you, among them all, did."

I arched an eyebrow, squashing down a feeling very different from disappointment. "I said you didn't have to seduce me to get me to help you. Proclaiming I stole your heart fits in that general category."

He smiled. "It happens to be true. Why do you think there was such an utter collapse after your exit? You took my heart and yet you didn't claim it. You left me alive, but in a sort of stasis. Still bound in magic tight as corset lacing, with teeth subtle as a poisoned comb, an enchanted morsel lodged in my throat to silence me."

My heart went all pitty-patty. Stupid heart. "Very poetic. And apparently you weren't all that silenced since you're talking to me now."

"Extraordinary things are afoot now."

"Of course they are. How could it be otherwise?" I sighed. "So how many runners did she send after me?"

"Funny you should ask. Exactly none."

My eyebrows tried to jump off my face.

"The Labyrinth cloaked me from her after you came, amplifying the destruction of your...deleterious denouement. If someone were really looking, they could see me plain as glass - but otherwise, I might as well be dead. This suited my mother just fine."

I chewed that over for a moment. "But something's changed, or you wouldn't be here now."

"Indeed. My mother went looking for my remains - she had found a way to extract residual power from them. And so she found me, very much not dead."

"Ah. This didn't stop her from wanting to extract the power from the living you, of course."

"Of course. Much more power available from my living self. And this time, she's no longer delegating."

I nodded. "If you want something done right, you do it yourself."

"With trusted companions. She's coming after me with my father's aid."

"Which means what exactly?"

"Besides his own power, he has a fair number of followers among the demons."

Yeeeesh, a demon horde. Lovely. "I see. So, given this, how are you still alive?"

"It turns out the power extracted is most potent at the solstices."

I pressed my fingers to my forehead. Winter solstice was tomorrow night. "Right. So that's why you're here now, talking to me."

"I'd rather _not_ be consumed utterly if it's all the same."

I exhaled slowly, my thoughts churning like a storm. "Outwitting vicious faerie parents, their immensely powerful fallen angel companions, and their unsavory demon entourages, all in less than forty eight hours." I closed my eyes briefly. "Well, you're not asking a lot, are you?"

He steepled his fingers and lifted his eyebrows charmingly. "I believe this fits within the purview of an occasional heroine. Besides, I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh?"

"Whatever payment you deem appropriate. And I promise you won't be bored."

A short laugh burst from me like a firecracker. "Right. There's that." I looked at him then, taking in the carefully controlled tension beneath the casual, flirtatious facade. I was clearly his only hope. _Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi…_ "You're lucky I have an overdeveloped sense of heroic valor."

His smile could have started riots with its heat. "I know. It's one of your more endearing qualities."

"Oh, shut up. And tell me about your plan."

"What plan?"

"The one you brought with you, nice and tidy-like, ready to unfurl once you roped me in."

"Ah, _that_ plan."


	3. Part Two: Burned

**Part Two: Burned**

* * *

The ritual to imbue me with a secret stash of Summer Court power was remarkably simple. Mid-day sunlight, a few words in Old Irish, and a fae witness. Who knew?

I was still getting used to the pulse of Summer heat that smoldered inside me like an ember waiting for breath while Jareth rifled through my closet that evening. He emerged with my most formal gown, a sleek color-changing thing that slid from white to cerulean to indigo. I felt like a million bucks in it, but it didn't exactly project Professional Badass Heroine.

"That?"

"You need something nice. We're due at the formal parlay at the Winter Court in half an hour, and beggars can't be choosers."

"If I ruin this dress because of you, I will _not_ be happy."

"Duly noted."

* * *

I looked down at the gathering from the top of the alabaster staircase, suddenly feeling woefully underdressed. "I thought you said this was a parlay."

"I did."

"Then why does it look like a fancy dress ball?"

"We fae like to multi-task." He offered me an elbow as he handed a card to the fellow announcing arrivals. "Shall we?"

Well, as they say, in for a penny…I linked my hand through his arm. "Do let's."

* * *

Let me tell you, covert intelligence ops have nothing on Faerie Court denizens. I've never been so thoroughly scrutinized in my life, and all without breaking their various conversations. I bet each and every one could have told you how high my heels were, the exact angle my hairstick held my hair up at, and how many fingers were curled into the crook of Jareth's elbow. And I was only catching the dregs of attention - most of it was focused on Jareth.

I barely heard who was announced after us, just catching the final title "Falchion of Snow".

Ah, second in command for the Winter Court, and a right unholy bitch from what I'd heard. They called her the Winter Nuke in modern times, renowned for her single-minded obliteration once unleashed. Probably here to help keep the parlay peaceful, especially since it was the night before winter solstice.

"Mmm," breathed Jareth, "it looks like my mother followed us in."

Oh. Oh, _shit._ "You might have mentioned your mother's position."

"Would it have mattered?"

I sighed. "I suppose not."

"And besides, it'd be especially bad if she were the one to break the peace, now wouldn't it?"

I nodded slowly. "That it would. All kinds of repercussions, assuming she didn't annihilate you in the meantime."

"Precisely."

I squeezed his arm gently. "I really hope you know what you're doing."

He squeezed my fingers back. "So do I."

* * *

Well, I've got to hand it to the Falchion. She doesn't waste time. Almost as soon as she'd sailed down the staircase with Belial at her side, she made a beeline towards us. The majestic sweep of her cloak was only slightly marred by crashing into the demon bodyguards that flanked her and Belial.

She halted two feet from Jareth. "Sweetheart, so good to see you." Her eyes glowed with glacial cold, but she had sincerity down pitch-perfect. I almost believed her. But then, I suppose she _was_ pleased. Easier to hunt him down when he's in the same room. Her eyes flicked to me, then settled like frost gone feral. "And who is this?"

I felt a pulse along my link to Jareth like the kiss of a spring breeze. "Allow me to present my trusted companion, Sarah."

The Falchion cocked her head in that avian way of Jareth's. Must run in the family. "I know you."

Mask of sunny innocence, check. "I'm sure I would have remembered if we'd met, your Grace."

Ha - success. Her attention turned back to Jareth. "She knows the proper form of address. Unusual in a human these days."

"I choose my trusted companions well." He glanced at Belial, who was impersonating an inhumanly gorgeous and very observant statue. "Something I learned from you."

Some ineffable emotion broke for a moment in her eyes, and there was a curious softness in her voice. "It doesn't have to be this way, you know. You don't have to defy me. We could be allies, sweetheart. We could be a family again."

Jareth looked as if he'd been struck. His words were soft as snowflakes when they finally came. "Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice…"

"That was ages ago, my love. We change with the times, don't we?" There was music in her voice, the invitation of sweet rest after an endless journey.

I saw it then, what she was doing, like an iridescent net. Nasty, subtle little thing. I'm not sure how I was even aware of it - my Summer powerup must have come with the equivalent of magic x-ray vision. Well, it was clearly time to earn my keep. I piped up, shattering the hidden music. "Ages ago? Last I heard, you were planning on coring him like an apple by tomorrow night. Hence the parlay now."

If looks were venom, I would have been convulsing. But it was enough - Jareth was himself again.

"Assault in a parlay zone, Mother." Jareth clucked his tongue. "That could be grounds for breaking the peace."

"Only if it was observed, darling boy. And who's to say we weren't simply having a nice chat, hmmm?"

I coughed delicately. "Me."

"And what proof do you have?" She clucked her tongue, pointedly mocking Jareth. "I'm afraid it's mere heresay. The word of a human who can't claim to be impartial, given her 'trusted companion' status."

Irritatingly, she was right. And apparently, sliding enough derision into your voice to fell a moose at fifteen feet _also_ ran in the family. Unfortunately, her attention was now back on me, too. So much for the Little Miss Innocence routine.

I felt something like an arctic wind blow through me as she stared at me, her pupils swiveling down to pinpricks. "And how _do_ you see such things, my girl? That wisp of Summer in your heart wouldn't do it."

Huh. Well, there went that theory. I smiled. "Just lucky, I guess, Ma'am."

She blinked slowly, as if really seeing me. "If you ever change your mind about alliances, I could use someone like you."

And there the fae are for you, ever-practical. My smile widened. "A snowball's chance in hell comes to mind."

A half-smile I'd last seen on Jareth's face curled across her lips as she turned away. "Think it over. I'll be around."

 _Not if you keep these shenanigans up, your Grace._

* * *

The ambient music switched, offering a thrumming, strolling sort of melody that made me want to glide across the dance floor with a partner something fierce. Which is quite the trick, since I've never taken a dance lesson in my life. But then, this was Faerie music being played in the heart of the Winter Court, so I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at my yearning. Actually, I was probably lucky I hadn't blindly grabbed the nearest available person (Jareth...or his mother, actually) and yanked them bodily onto the dance floor.

I smiled briefly at the thought of pair-dancing with the Falchion. Awkward much? We'd make quite the couple before she ate me alive. Still, it might be worth it for those few mo-

Wait, what the hell... _goddammit_ , the woman was doing that subtle persuasion spell thing again. Determined little second-in-command, wasn't she...why was she concentrating on me now, though? I glanced at her, catching sight of that blasted iridescent net.

Ah, she _wasn't_ concentrating on me. I was getting the backlash from her attack on Jareth, filtered through our link. Ye gods, the yearning in him must be unimaginable. I opened my mouth to speak and break her spell again, but Belial touched me and my entire body simply refused to move.

In my head, I glared at him. _Rat bastard fallen angel._

Belial's silent laughter rolled over my thoughts like an avalanche, threatening to bury my sanity.

I shuddered mentally. Right. Fallen seraph, first sphere. Do not fuck with directly. So I just stood there and watched as the iridescent net tightened around Jareth like a noose. And I tried very, very hard not to panic.

The Falchion leaned towards Jareth. "Dance with me, darling. We can talk and enjoy ourselves at the same time."

His voice was as empty as a winter sky. "Of course, Mother."

I couldn't feel a damned thing from him. _Oh God, Jareth, no._

Her hands snapped onto him with a nearly audible click, and off they went.

* * *

When they were a good twenty feet away, I saw her intention half a heartbeat before her power burrowed straight into his chest like a worm. The entire Court froze, making absolutely no move to interfere.

Disappointing but completely expected, really. That's fae for you again. Especially Court fae.

Luckily, we'd planned ahead. Without having to twitch a muscle, I began to stoke the ember of Summer inside of me and tried to waft its power along my link to Jareth. Which I still couldn't feel in the slightest. Which we had _not_ planned on.

Even the musicians had stopped now as we all watched her power fill him full. It looked so cold, but my link to him was gone, was dead, was numb.

If I was a cartoon character, a light bulb would have flashed over my head right then.

The link was numb alright. Numb with _cold._ Because she was on the other end of it, sucking it dry.

The realization gave me a force of will that stoked my Summer ember to a dragon's roar, and I fed that puppy right down where I thought the numbed link ought to be. Something akin to magical pins and needles sparked to life inside my chest.

The Doors whispered through my consciousness. _C'mon, baby, light my fiiiire..._

I felt my Summer power make contact with the Falchion's sucking maw and gained just enough control of my facial muscles to crack a grin.

Jareth's mother spoke to him then, with a rather unpleasant strain in her voice that was loud enough for the rest of us to hear. "Your heart is so... _warm_."

Jareth's blank mask melted and his eyes flashed. "You sent Sarah to take the heart of me. She _did_." His heartbeat echoed along our link, strong as fire-forged steel. "She holds Summer in her now." He leaned forward so that his lips nearly brushed his mother's cheek. "And I find fair weather agrees with me. But alas," he kissed her cheek gently, "not with _you._ "

Realization steamrolled her in a blinding wave as her breaths began to come in gasps and light built like a star between them. "Im...po...ssible."

"You wanted to dance, Mother? Let's _dance._ "

Between one breath and the next, my Summer power filtered through Jareth and blew into her like a supernova, consuming her utterly. There wasn't even ash left. And the backlash...well, let's just say the Falchion of Snow had quite a bit of power in her. I think even Belial got a touch singed on his eyebrows - but then, they were jet black to begin with, so it was difficult to tell. He certainly looked put out, if I was interpreting that particular immobile expression correctly. The Falchion's fiery demise probably wasn't in his plans.

The only reason I wasn't a charred crisp was due to Jareth's link to me, which seemed to act as a kind of force field - like repels like, I suppose. The same could most certainly _not_ be said for the demon bodyguards, whose flaming remains were scattered around the Winter Queen's ballroom. The room itself was completely trashed and most of the Court looked like they'd seen better and less scorched days.

The Winter Queen, the only one besides me and Jareth who looked fresh as a glittering snowdrop, arched an eyebrow at the devastation and clapped twice appreciatively. "Well, the passing of the Falchion's mantle is always exciting. I'll be in touch."

I tried hard to close my mouth. "The what of the mantle?"

Jareth flashed me one of his devil smiles. "Don't worry, love. You're chock full of heroism and Summer. This is my responsibility."

"Well, _that's_ reassuring. Speaking of, when does my Summer-ness wear off?"

"Wear off?"

The Queen's smile bit into me as she looked at Jareth. "You didn't tell her, did you?"

"I _did_ hope a built-in alliance to a Summer power reserve might be sufficiently interesting to you to forgive my...exuberant solution to my family troubles, your Majesty."

"Quite, your Grace." She turned back to me. "Welcome to the Court, dear. I'm sure Summer's envoys will also be in touch with _you_. They haven't had a proper human champion in _ages_." She paused. "Well, for that matter, neither have we."

I glared at Jareth. "You really could have mentioned this."

"You didn't ask. I promised you wouldn't be bored."

I grit my teeth. "That you did."

"And I believe this is still in the purview of an occasional heroine."

My nostrils flared as I inhaled a deep, calming breath. "I suppose it is."

"And the dress is unscathed, to boot."

I sighed. "True."

"I'm a man of my word, am I not?"

"You are, you scheming Winter bastard."

He gave me a gentlemanly bow and another of those devil smiles. "At your service, my lady Champion."

"Good." I crossed my arms, a cozy little idea coming to mind. "Then I'll be taking appropriate compensation for this little adventure."

"Also as promised."

"Which will be ongoing lessons in the use of Faerie power, both Winter and Summer."

He froze. "What?"

I smiled. "Knowledge is power, and you owe me. You said whatever payment I deem appropriate. Well, your Grace, this is it. Best not to break a promise to the Summer human champion, no?"

I swear the Winter Queen's lips flickered up briefly. And Belial was most definitely looking at me with something other than irritation.

Jareth recovered his composure in an eyeblink and bowed his head to me again. "As you wish."

"Good. We can start next week with _exactly_ how the ritual works to dub a human champion for one of the Courts. I'm already Summer's. I really don't need to be hoodwinked into becoming Winter's, too."

"That's actually extremely unlikely, given the circumstances." This from Belial, of all people.

I snorted. "Extremely unlikely is _not_ the same as impossible. And as we just saw here, even impossible is no guarantee." I turned back to Jareth. "My place, 1pm, Tuesday?"

He tilted his head towards the queen. "Unless her Majesty has need of me then?"

Amusement danced in the queen's eyes like foxfire. "Oh no, your Grace, I think this is an excellent use of your time. Carry on."

He smiled at me, warming me down to my toes, damn him. "Your place Tuesday at 1pm it is, my lady."

I felt my heart doing its pitty-patty dance again. "Stop that. These will not be _those_ kind of lessons."

He hummed a little to himself and put enough heat into his eyes to make my insides twitch. "And how would you know?"

He was right. I didn't know what Faerie magic entailed. "Sometimes I really hate you."

"Mmm. I suspect this feeling will only increase over the course of our ongoing lessons. Hopefully, we can find some way to...compensate."

"You're not even trying to hide the innuendo now. At least make an effort in polite company." I glanced at the queen and Belial, who had matching expressions of suppressed laughter.

Jareth didn't bother to suppress his - it rubbed along my skin like cinnamon oil, just that side of burning. "We'll need to work on your definition of polite company, love."

I closed my eyes briefly. This was clearly headed nowhere good. "Right. Tuesday at 1pm."

He lifted my hand to his mouth, brushing his lips formally across the tops of my fingers. "As you wish."

The things we do for occasional heroism.

* * *

 _And that's the conclusion of this little romp, having run through the Snow White story frame. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Our dear occasional heroine Sarah is certainly in for an interesting time, but I think those adventures are best left as part of another tale._

 _Many thanks to my gorgeous reviewers, whose comments spurred me on. And if you've noticed similarities to the Harry Dresden universe, I admit to being very much inspired by it._


End file.
